


Think You Can Wait

by Irrealis



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2015-2016 NHL Season, 2016 Stanley Cup Playoffs, Chocolate Box Exchange Treat, Closeted Character, M/M, NHL Trade(s), National Hockey League, Pittsburgh Penguins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-17 18:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13664427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrealis/pseuds/Irrealis
Summary: There's a huddle of younger guys in the corner, chattering amongst themselves and still glowing with excitement at just being on the team. One of them looks up and breaks into a huge grin. "Oh hey, it's Hot Carl!"





	Think You Can Wait

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theladyscribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladyscribe/gifts).



> Many thanks to **snickfic** for the beta!

When the trade happens, he barely has a chance to react before he's bundled onto the plane. He thinks about the guys he knows on the Penguins, rattles off the list to the cameras when they ask. Patric, Kevin Porter, Coach Sullivan. They're good people. It's going to be fine.

It can't be worse than Anaheim, anyway.

The PensTV crew drops him at his hotel, he shakes a few hands and assures them that he's happy to be there, and then he finally has an entire hotel suite all to himself. It's not that late, especially by West Coast standards, but he feels exhausted. He turns on his phone, replies to a few texts and stares at the one from Crosby for a solid minute before he can even manage to tap out a "Thanks, looking forward to it". Then he flops back on the bed and falls asleep in his clothes.

Carl is introduced to the team the next day at morning skate. Even the guys who took the option swing by to say hi. Patric greets him with a giant smile, wraps an arm around Carl's shoulders and takes him around the room to introduce him to everyone like a proud father.

There's a huddle of younger guys in the corner, chattering amongst themselves and still glowing with excitement at just being on the team. One of them looks up and breaks into a huge grin. "Oh hey, it's Hot Carl!"

Carl blinks at the sudden invoking of his college nickname, and the room erupts with hoots of laughter. "Oh man," Kevin laughs. "I forgot about that."

The guy is young, but doing a pretty good job of growing a beard. Obviously taking Carl's stare as lack of recognition, he says, "You were at UMich with my brother."

"Bryan Rust," says Carl. "Yeah, I remember." Carl is desperately thinking of something to say that isn't 'Wow, you grew up _hot_ '. He finally settles on, "Good to see you again."

Bryan beams at him.

"Welcome to the team," says Sidney Crosby, and that's it. He's Team Penguins now.

 

Once Carl's back at the hotel for his nap, he takes his phone out and stares at it. It's hard to keep up with the guys who never made the show. Conversations just taper off, and before you know it it's been months. After a while, he taps on Matt's contact and types, _Looks like I'm babysitting Little Rust now_.

He gets a reply a few minutes later. _You take good care of him, make sure he gets to bed at a decent hour, don't let him watch too much TV._

Carl snorts. But now that he's started the joke, it's starting to sit uncomfortably in his stomach. _He's all grown up now. He can manage his own damn bedtime._

Matt sends back a laughing emoji.

College seems a long time ago now. He doesn't really miss it - the ice is better now, the money is a _lot_ better, and he's not trying to juggle study with his hockey - but he misses the heady freedom of it. They didn't know his face in the city. He could hook up without worrying about it getting out.

But he has larger things to worry about now. The team is hurtling towards the playoffs at a breakneck pace, and it's all he can do to keep up, so he files his unfortunate attraction to his college teammate's younger brother away with the other things he tries not to think about - like 2014, and the trade - and plays the best hockey he can.

 

Bryan becomes Rusty, Carl gains a new line and a nickname for it, and the Penguins win the Eastern Conference championship.

The day after they beat the Lightning, Rusty sits down next to him after practice, once the media have cleared out and the team has the room to themselves. He's buzzing with nervous excitement. "You've been here before," he says, with the kind of care that Carl remembers from Matt at college. "Any tips?"

Carl takes several long seconds to breathe before he replies. "Well, we lost," he says. "So I don't think my tips are worth anything. You should talk to Sid."

Rusty blanches and shakes his head.

It turns out that once you get him off the ice Sid is the least intimidating person in the world, but Carl can kind of understand that it might look different from Rusty's perspective. "Kuni, maybe," he suggests. "He won with the Ducks, too."

"I guess," says Rusty.

But now Carl's thinking about 2014 again, and everything else wants to come flooding out too. A little bead of sweat is making its way down the side of Rusty's face into his beard, which is definitely making the most of the playoffs. "You're going to be great," says Carl. "You're fast, you're fearless, and you won us that fucking series."

Rusty breaks into a wide grin. "Yeah," he says. "You too." He nudges Carl in the side. "You put the heart in 'Heartbreak Kid'."

"What the fuck," says Carl, and they both laugh until Geno yells that he'll fine them if they don't either shut up or share the joke.

 

When Carl wakes from his nap before Game 1, he has a text waiting from Zuccs. _Good luck_ , it says.

He hasn't heard from Zuccs since before playoffs started, and it's a little stab in the gut to see his name on the screen now. He wants to say "sorry", but he isn't. He wants to type "Wish you were here", which is true but not what Zuccs wants to hear. He swallows, and types out a reply.

Then he shoves his phone in his bag, his emotions in their box, and puts his game face on.

 

They win it. They fucking win it.

And in California, which is great because he fucking hates that place.

 

Carl is in Mario fucking Lemieux's pool and they won the fucking Stanley Cup. He's drunk, so drunk, and he's not sure if it's the alcohol or winning or just pure lack of sleep.

"Hey, Hot Carl," says Rusty. He holds out a beer, although it's not clear whether he's offering it to Carl or making a toast.

Carl hasn't showered or slept in two days, and his hair is plastered to his neck and it's starting to itch. He feels the complete opposite of hot. "Why do you keep calling me that," he complains.

"Why not? It's true isn't it?"

Carl shrugs. "You tell me."

"You," says Rusty, waving a hand in the air, "are smoking hot. And your name is Carl. QED."

"You're not bad yourself," Carl fires back.

Rusty's mouth spreads in a slow smile. "You think so?"

His mouth is suddenly dry. "You should keep the beard," says Carl.

Rusty's eyes are fixed on Carl's mouth, and Carl swallows. There's too many people around. They're all drunk, and maybe no one would care, but maybe they would. There are lines. He drew them himself.

"Who'd have thought, huh," says Rusty, at last meeting Carl's eyes again. "Eight years ago you were just my big brother's cool teammate."

Carl doesn't want to think about Matt right now. "You thought I was cool?"

Rusty snorts. "You know what you were like. I was just a kid."

"You grew up hot," Carl blurts out. "And," he adds, a little louder for the benefit of everyone around them, "a fucking Stanley Cup Champion."

The ensuing round of cheers and victory hugs provides the perfect excuse to get his arms around Rusty's waist, and he manages to nuzzle against his neck before he's pulled back into the scrum.

 

They end up in the same car back to the hotel, Conor sandwiched between him and Rusty, slumped against Carl's side. It may be the long-stay hotel of choice for new and returning Penguins, but after five months Carl is tired of it and almost looking forward to house-hunting in the summer. He thinks he spends more time at Patric's than in his room, but the WBS callups have practically made a little commune of it.

They stumble out of the car and into the lobby and find the elevator through long force of habit. The elevator starts zooming up floors and Carl is trying to formulate some excuse to get off on the same floor as everyone else when Rusty says, "Hey, could you give me a hand with Conor? He's like, barely conscious."

"'m fine," Conor protests. He doesn't open his eyes.

Carl is pretty sure Rusty could handle it on his own, but he's not about to argue. They get Conor into his room and force him to drink half a bottle of Gatorade before wrangling him into bed. It reminds Carl of college, looking out for your teammates and battling hangovers with every trick in the book.

Conor is snoring before they've even left the room and Carl feels a momentary pang of envy. His tiredness is like a warm, fuzzy blanket right now, and he just wants to sink down into it.

They finally get back into the hallway and nerves wake him up a little, although Rusty seems to take it for granted that Carl is following him to his room. Rusty locks the door behind them and fetches two bottles of Gatorade from the fridge. "Electrolytes," Rusty says, but Carl is too distracted watching him lick his lips to reply.

"I'm about to pass out," says Rusty, words tumbling out so fast it's hard to understand him, "but I really want to kiss you."

"Fuck, same," says Carl, once he untangles his own words.

It's not a perfect kiss, by any normal standards. He can taste the sour tang of alcohol behind the Gatorade and they're both clumsy and desperate, bumping noses when they change angles. But it takes them to the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed trading kisses and gentle hickeys.

"If this is a dream, don't tell me," Rusty murmurs into the side of Carl's neck. His beard tickles a little.

Carl leans backwards, pulling Rusty down with him until they're lying on the bed together. "It's not a dream," says Carl, somehow sure despite everything.

He lets his eyes drift shut for a moment, just until they stop feeling so heavy.

 

He wakes with his face smushed into Rusty's shoulder, mouth dry and every muscle screaming at him. Rusty's fingers are tangled in Carl's hair and it pulls when he lifts his head.

He settles back down with a sigh. Rusty is still out for the count, but Carl doesn't mind waiting for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Opinions on California are not those of the author.
> 
> Some citations:
> 
> [Fast times for Carl Hagelin on Penguins' sizzling HBK line](https://www.si.com/nhl/2016/06/07/pittsburgh-penguins-nhl-stanley-cup-final-hbk-line-carl-hagelin-nick-bonino-phil-kessel) (Sports Illustrated, June 2016) - From which we get "Hot Carl" (which I am choosing to take at face value), some quotes from Matt Rust, a nice description of the HBK line, and I was reminded that Hags had worked with Sullivan before.
> 
> [Game 7 hero Bryan Rust paving his own way with his brother’s support](https://www.si.com/nhl/2016/05/28/pittsburgh-penguins-bryan-rust-brother-matt) (Sports Illustrated, May 2016) - Nice profile of the Rust brothers, and where I got "Little Rust" from. (Please nobody tell Alex Prewitt how much he influenced this fic.)
> 
> [Rusty and Hags, c. 2009](http://sparcck.tumblr.com/post/164953719769/bbrusty-and-bbhags-in-2009-and-for-more-yelling) \- Sadly the "Glamorous" routine was after the 2017 cup win and thus I was unable to work it into this fic.
> 
> [In the Room: Forging an Identity](https://youtu.be/9vyNEexdNEY?t=4m43s) (Season 5, Episode 5), in which Hags is traded to the Penguins and namedrops Patric Hornqvist and Kevin Porter, but not his ex-teammate's little brother Bryan.


End file.
